In Loving Memory of Tiny Tim

Now Tiny Tim fans can submit their fan fiction short stories!  The stories must remain PG-rated.  To submit yours, me with the subject: Tiny Tim Fan Fiction.  I'm looking forward to reading your stories!

The Mystery Man

I had never seen such an odd-looking, and yet captivating man in all my life. I was at a music event at a nearby bar that had talent shows every Friday night. The man that captured my attention was very tall, and his hair was long and dark, possibly jet black, with curls that spiraled and spilled over his shoulders.  I couldn't really tell if his hair was dark brown or jet black due to the low lighting and smoke-filled environment of the bar, but I could tell that sometimes, this man's curls seemed to bunch up on one-another and form one banana curl, in different sections on his head.  I had never seen such curly hair before.  I took particular notice to the skin on his hands, which seemed somewhat olive-complexioned, compared to his face, which glowed with an anemic pallor. Just a hint of pink barely accented his cheekbones. He may have had makeup on, but why?  He was a man, and why would a man wear makeup?

He was so interesting that I just wanted to continue to observe him and find out why he was so pale, and hopefully introduce myself to this exotic creature.  I just had to know more about him!  Upon further observation at my own table, I caught a glimpse of his profile while he chatted and laughed with what seemed to be friends of his. When he turned to share a large smile and hearty laugh with one his female friends, his profile carried such a large, unbalanced nose, which made the rest him seem awkward, which made me want to stare even more at him.  I couldn't take my eyes off of him.  His smile was wide and beautiful and his eyes sparkled as though there were a million galaxies of stars in them, and he had a magnetic presence about him.  He appeared to be Middle Eastern as far as his facial features were concerned. He made large gestures with his hands and his eyes rolled heavenward a lot as he talked.

One of his male friends seemed to be constantly looking at his watch to tell this stranger what time it was.  It was as if the male friend was the stranger's boss, or body guard or informant, or something.  I watched the stranger as his long and lanky stature slunk over to what appeared to be a dressing room. He opened the door as though he owned the door, its frame, and the wall that it swung from. He knew right where he wanted to go. Maybe he owns the place. Could he know someone who was in the show tonight? I discreetly tiptoed over to the wall, and snuck around its corner, which was chipped and needed a paint job, and had two payphones bolted to it, to get a better look. I could see that he was actually taking a seat in front of a dressing room mirror!

My mouth dropped in amazement at my discovery and I leaned upon the slightly opened dressing room door to get a closer look.  The stranger was all alone in his room and appeared to be quite nervous to the point of talking to himself. Perhaps he was talking himself out of being so nervous? Perhaps he was rehearsing a line that he was about to perform on stage? Maybe he was praying?  I couldn't get close enough to hear him.  The man also appeared to want to be alone, as someone called into his room from the black rotary telephone which sat on the dressingroom table.  He spoke ever so politely to whoever was on the other end, but then hung up abruptly and rolled his eyes in relief.  He held the right side of his head as though he had a headache, and rocked back and forth, still seeming nervous.

I had noticed that he also seemed somewhat saddened when he was to himself, but happy and cheerful when he was with friends.  Maybe he acted happy in front of everyone so noone would be concerned for him?  I tried desperately to piece the fragments of clues together.  I wondered why the stranger seemed so sad and nervous, and I could feel my heart in my throat. I wanted to cheer him up, though I had no idea who he was. He was just so captivating!

My voyeuristic rendezvous was interrupted by a waitress, who bumped into me, then politely excused herself, "Oh, sorry, sweety - I didn't see you there," she said, with a southern drawl. She had vanished, unaware of my nosiness, before I could reply with a meek, "S'ok."  After clutching my chest for a few seconds, from fear of having been caught, I went back to observing my object of interest. Sweat was still trickling from my brow from almost being caught.

Trying to get my focus in such a dark place, I found him calming down a bit and checking his make-up in the mirror, which would explain his unusual paleness, and he was applying more white powder to his face to cut down on shine. He then reapplied his blush, gently blowing off any access before application. I thought to myself, "he is obviously a performer. I wonder what his talent is? He is probably doing Shakespeare or something." I surmized this because of the white makeup the man was skillfully applying.  Suddenly, in my intensity of watching him, my weight pushed through the slightly opened door of his dressing room and I fell onto his dressing room's plush red carpeted floor, startling the man. "Oh, my!" He shrieked, his voice sounding effeminately high, as he jumped from his seat.  He then plastered his back against the wall in fright, his eyes wide opened.

My long, brown hair had clumsily fallen down into my eyes and my mouth was agape at the horror of being found out.  The hair that had fallen into my eyes and face was now blowing out as I tried catching my breath.  My skirt was riding up my thigh and having landed on my hands, and my right hip, I was looking up at him through strands of my hair. He, in turn, looked down at me. The large man whom I had been spying on was now barreling toward me. I was sure he was going to pummel me! My life flashed before my eyes! Oddly, he didn't seem upset at all, past the initial startle.

The rather large, but kind gentleman helped me off the floor, gently holding my left hand and guiding me up. As I hobbled on only one high heel, he patted my hand and asked, "Are you alright, dear one?" My eyes roamed all over him as I offered no reply.  I was too stunned.  I was thinking to myself, "nobody calls someone a 'dear one' anymore. He must be eccentric." I then looked down at his hands, which were still holding mine and thought to myself, "he has really long fingers!"  I still hadn't replied to his question and I was gently biting my lower lip as I got a closer look at his face - his mouth, his eyes, even his eyelashes.  His gentle voice snapped me back to reality, "Miss? Are you alright?" His hands were still holding me steady.  Finally, I sheepishly replied, "Yes, thank you," and I apologized for giving him a scare. "Oh, it is quite alright, Miss -?" He searched for my name. "Cheryl," I replied, still extremely shy of this huge man. "Well, Miss Cheryl, it is a pleasure to meet you," the man kindly greeted me, as if starting the whole scenario over again from a clean slate. He kissed my hand and let go.  Breaking out in a song whilst taking a barrett out of his hair, which allowed his bangs to fall into his eyes, he finished putting the final touches on his appearance.

I wanted so desperately to know this man's name, but I chickened out and instead I asked, "You probably want to change clothes, right?"  Hinting that I should probably leave. "Oh, no. I'm done. Now, I just have to wait until my name is announced," he explained with exaggerated, effeminate hand gestures.  He looked me up and down, and I looked him up and down, still biting the corner of my lower lip.  Our eyes flirted with each other as he serenaded me with a sweet melody which was accompanied by a ukelele. 

I thought the gesture was endearing, when suddenly, he no sooner finished the last note and a name was announced over the loud speaker as though they were a celebrity, "And now for your listening pleasure! The one - the only - Tiny Tim!" The roar of applause was deafening. "That's me! I'm up!" He said this with a large, polite smile then continued, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Cheryl!" He patted me on my shoulder and hurried off to the stage, but not before asking me to stay for his show and get an autograph afterward. Needless to say, I stayed for the show.